


Justice League: The Blue World

by The_Origin



Category: Justice League
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Romance, Some Humor, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4951906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Origin/pseuds/The_Origin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The Justice League existed when the world needed it most, nearly a decade after its disbanding, the world needs it again. The Justice League reimburse themselves in the world they left long ago. They find that they have to rediscover themselves, and this time there's a lot more at stake. (Story focuses on Bruce Wayne)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This work is an improved reconstruction of something I've already written on another platform. Due to reasons that work has been deleted and so I've taken it as an opportunity to write an improved version.
> 
> Everything belongs to DC. I'm a lame superhero geek don't judge. It's an au, honestly, just go with the flow.

Justice League: The Blue World

Prologue

"We were merely 8 when we first met, younger than you'd expect. Back when we had nothing to link us other than our determination and youth. I remembered him. For years. That look in his eyes.

"I was on a school trip, to the rural town of Smallville, we were travelling in a large coach. The weather had taken a turn, storm clouds that had been brewing had decided to awaken, just as we crossed over a bridge that stood above the deep lake. Naturally, the weather proved too much and the wood gave way.

"I remember a scream, shouts, flailing limbs and the creak of wood and the splash of water. The coach fell. We fell. The waves washed over me, salty and blinding, throwing me backwards and forwards and making me feel as insignificant and minuscule as I truly was.

"But I fought, I fought hard. My father was always saving lives, and I expected myself to do the same. When I went under, when the water burned me from within like a fire raging inside me I struggled to reach the surface and help others. 

"I swam blindly, following the screams of a boy thrashing around, clinging to a broken branch. That was when I saw him. Eyes aghast, jaw set and determined. He jumped in, swam faster than I could ever hope to and I swear to God that he flew the boy back to the bank. Of course, at the time, such a thing would've been the incessant rambling of a boy who saw his hero.

"No, I never glorified him. He was just another boy like me. An unconscious girl, with her leg caught in the window of the coach caught my eye and I swam towards her and grabbed her arm. Dragging her behind me as I swam to shore I threw her onto the bank and remained panting in the water. He had seen me, his eyes remained trailed upon me for a moment . I watched as he pulled the coach to shore, the others had pulled themselves onto the opposite shore, it was the only way I could explain that I was the only one who saw this magnificent feat. Our eyes met as I clambered ashore myself, he viewed my soaked shirt and tie with a raised eyebrow and I ignored his plain clothes to pay attention to the face of this boy. I extended my hand and to my surprise he took it. A silent understand passed between us before he retracted his hand and left me.

"It was 18 years before we met again. Before I was Batman and before he was Superman. At the time we were just two boys. Trying to help the world. And isn't that just what we still are? Just two children, trying to save the world from drowning? 

"There's no such thing as heroes. Just those who try." 


	2. Chapter 2

It was times like these that Bruce reminded himself to be grateful of the little pleasures within life. The rain thundered outside, dark clouds loomed over Gotham and the water pattered against the windowsill furiously. The duvet was thick and warm, Selina's hair was splayed out across the pillow and had begun to tickle his ear but he made no start to move.

There was a knock on the door and he opened one eye to glare at it, anticipating his children to come roaring in to disrupt the peace. "Master Bruce?" The question echoed into the room and Bruce found his anger dissipate and be replaced by a begrudging irritation. 

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He rolled out of bed, cast a fond glance at his sleeping wife and brushed a hand over her cheek. Age had done little to marr her beauty. Sometimes when he glanced at her, he though of who she used to be, what she used to be, but that was all long behind them, buried in the past. He walked across the plush carpet to open the door and give Alfred a sleepy nod of acknowledgement. The old butler remained the same as ever, wrinkles in place and hair whiter than you could've thought possible.

It was the look in his eyes that alerted Bruce something wasn't right. The usual cheerful glimmer was gone, replaced by an uncertain grimace. "Alfred?" Bruce rubbed a hand over his face and hair, as though physically attempting to brush the sleep away. 

"Master Bruce," his voice was grave, "I would think it best if you were to come with me." 

Bruce cast a glance back at his sleeping wife before nodding. "Right." 

They walked down the corridors of Wayne Manor, now so much more homely than it had once been, until they arrived at the grand study. Bruce walked in, frowning at Alfred. They approached the bookshelf that they both knew would lead to The Batcave. Alfred indicated for Bruce to open the door, all the while nervously playing with his hands.

Pushing a hand against the book that allowed the door to slide to the side, Bruce allowed himself to walk into the tunnel that lead to the Batcave. It had been so long. So long. Quiet footsteps echoed around until they reached the large open cave. "God." Bruce breathed, "It's been so long." 

He wandered over to the tube in which his bat suit remained as pristine as the day he had worn it last, so long ago. He allowed the tube to open and felt the cool materi against his hand. 

"Master Bruce?" Alfred called him from his thoughts, "I asked you to come down here for a reason, you see," he hesitated, "There was a letter in the post today which I found..." He trailed off and for the first time, Bruce noticed the scrap of paper in his hand.

Bruce took the paper, glancing up worriedly at Alfred as he did so. The paper was a scrap of newspaper, an old edition, 'WHERE IS HE NOW?' the paper read. It was referring to him, to Batman. 

Scrawled in messy, thick, dark ink was scribbled 'I'm ba-ack...are you?'

"No." It was a breath, a gasp that couldn't be contained. Bruce looked up at Alfred, "It can't be."

Alfred kept his head low, "Master Bruce, may I suggest you leave this to the authorities-"

"What? Alfred he's calling me, asking me to come after him!" Bruce snapped.

"Exactly he's baiting you. You can't let him do that." Alfred was frowning, "You have a family now, wife, kids. You're not young anymore, you have so much to lose."

"He's after me. The authorities can't protect me or anyone from him." Bruce took a deep breath, "You can't change my decision Alfred." He sighed, "Call Clark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the beginning is a bit slow. But we'll soon pick up pace, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating has been changed due to the use of swears

Dust had settled over the desks and stations that had once been occupied in the Bat Cave. Bruce sat in his seat, staring up at the huge computer screen that took up the cave wall in front of him. The huge hall had remained undisturbed for so long he was unsure of how to return to his work.

"Ahem," the clearing of a throat made Bruce raise an eyebrow.

"I heard your fucking cape whoosh, Clark. Your presence is duly noted," Bruce said, not even turning in his chair to glance at the man.

Superman chuckled and slowly allowed himself to float to the ground, "I could've had a better welcoming, seeing as you called me here." He said, walking towards Bruce he crossed his arms. "It's been a while." He said eventually.

Bruce nodded and glanced up at his old friend, "8 years." He sighed, "Damian's 3rd birthday." Time had treated Clark well, whether that was due to him being an alien or whatnot, Bruce had no idea.

"Ah,"Clark said, "I remember, how time flies. Ivylia would be 16 now wouldn't she?" He asked. Bruce nodded and they remained silent momentarily, "It's good to see you Bruce."

The gesture made Bruce smile, "As much as I hate to admit it, I agree." He paused, "But that's not why I called you here."

Clark frowned, "I assumed so, Alfred was halfway to the morgue when he phoned me."

"It's the Joker. He's back." He let the words sink in.

Clark hesitated, "Bruce, The Joker has always been your...problem. I want to help, I wish I could but I'm facing my own problems right now." 

"I'm not asking for your help." Bruce replied coolly, "I'm asking for your advice. I have to sort him out, once and for all. But that means..." he trailed off and his stare went to his bat suit.

Clark hesitated, "What about Selina? Ivylia? Damian?" he asked, "Selina wouldn't want anything to happen to you. As for Ivylia she probably doesn't even remember when Batman existed, and you'd retired before Damian was even born!" Clark hesitated, "But, at the same time, perhaps this will give you the closure you need. Maybe it'll help."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're crap at giving advice?" Bruce stood up and strolled over to where his suit stood in a glass case. 

"I'm just warning you. Do what you have to do but don't let it involve your family of affect them, Bruce." Clark said softly.

Bruce turned to face him, "I won't," he said. "What about you?" He asked, "How's the superhero game treating you?"

A pained expression flickered over Clark's face, "Diana and I are dealing with a particularly malicious   charachter by the name of Queen Bee."

Bruce nodded, "And how are the others?" 

Clark smiled, "Barry's a dad. Hard to believe I know. Oliver's still working, Arthur's returned to Atlantis, Hal's married and J'onn's...somewhere."  

"Daaaaaad!" The sound came from above and Clark smirked.

"I think that's for you," he chuckled.

Bruce gave a tired smile, "Thank you for coming Clark. Really. It's not as easy as it once was."

"No," Clark agreed, "It's not."


	4. Chapter 4

In the long passageway of Wayne Manor, with cream carpets offset by mahogany staircases and banisters Damian Wayne stood, brow creased and lips pulled into the perfect pout. His soft thin nose and wry features resembled his mother, yet his strong jaw and dark, messy hair made sure he could never be mistaken as anything other than a Wayne. He was holding a piece of paper and had a set look upon his face. Various pieces of shredded paper surrounded him.

Beside him, stood his sister, tall and willowy with jet black hair that became varying shades of blue past her shoulders to her mid-back. Large eyes and high cheekbones made her resemble her father but in a more effeminate way, her olive skin was darker than that of her pale brother, but both the children exhumed some sort of exoticism about their looks.

"Dad, he ruined it." Ivylia moaned, "The brat ruined my collage!" She snarled, giving her brother an entirely vicious look.

"It's 8am," Bruce murmured with a sigh, "How could you have already gotten into an argument?"

"I was writing my birthday list," Damian began, "And I had invited Naomi Girth and Lia said I fancied her!" His face contorted into one of anger and embarrassment, "So I ripped up her collage."

Ivylia snorted, "You snot!" She snapped, "Firstly I cannot believe you did that and secondly you totally do fancy Naomi, I was just pointing out the truth, sorry you can't handle it." She snatched the remained piece of paper in his hand, out of it.

"Kids," Bruce groaned, "Seriously?" He frowned, "I'd expect the pair of you to be more mature than that." The two children suddenly seemed extremely guilty, their expressions growing saddened and uncertain. They glanced at one another and Damian began to fidget where he stood.

"Sorry Dad," Ivylia murmured, her brother hurriedly echoed her. "Now Ivylia don't tease your brother. Apologise." He told her. She looked up at him with round brown eyes, mouth open to argue, but then dropped her head back down and murmured an apology to her brother.

"As for you, how dare you rip you sister's work up? He demanded. "It was just her collage," he said tearfully, "I'm sorry, I was just angry." The siblings glanced at each other and a silent understanding passed between them.

"You're going to have to piece every bit of that collage back together again, Damian." Bruce told him. The boy nodded woefully, "Is that okay, Ivylia?"

His daughter was now watching her brother with guilt, "No, it's okay, it was just something I was working on in my free time. I shouldn't have teased him I just..."

"Good." Bruce smiled, "No go down for breakfast, I'm sure Alfred's waiting. I'll come down in a moment." Bruce watched his children turn and gather up the ripped pieces of paper before going down the large staircase into the foyer which would lead to the kitchen.

Selina stood leaning against the wall, watching him with a wry smile. "What?" He smirked. "Oh, nothing," she purred, walking up to him and placing a finger on his chest. Even now, there was a feline grace to the way she moved. He stared at her face, her beautiful eyes and plump lips. "You left bed early."

Her words seemed to resound within him, he lost the dazed smile that had begun to play upon his lips, "Selina, I need to talk to you." She frowned, "What?" Bruce took her hand in his own, "He's back, The Joker." Selina's face fell, "I need to put an end to him once and for all. Okay? That means I have to do what I have to do."

"Bruce," she breathed, "It's been years-"

"Please." He cut her off, "I need you to stand by me. I need to do this."

Selina nodded, hesitantly she wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his chest, "I want to stand by you. But please, just remember that it's not like it used to be. We have a family Bruce."

"I know," he looked down on her head, "I love you." He told her.

He felt her smile against him, "I love you too."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing belongs to me all DC Etc.

"Wow." Barry's voice echoed through the phone, "Shits really hit the fan huh?" He asked.

"You could say that," Bruce replied, "I thought I'd let you know, just make sure you knew I was going to don the suit again." He was sitting in his study, with a bookshelf on the walls to his left and right, a huge window behind him and large double doors opposite him that led out onto the corridor. The bookshelves and desk were made of dark, shiny mahogany and the floor was covered in a plush red carpet. Light streamed in from behind him and he sat in his chair and swivelled it as he examined the Joker's letter in his hands.

"Good to know, good to know." Barry said, "Now that little Don and Dawn are here I myself have had to put the suit up...perhaps for longer than I would've wanted. Iris is happy though, doesn't want me endangering myself what with little Allens to watch over."

Bruce groaned, "Little Allens?"

"Oh please." Barry's indignation could be heard over the phone, "It's a perfectly suitable title, and ironic that you're the one snorting, _batman._ Their arrival however has appeared to doom both my career as a superhero and big Barry."

"Who's big Barry?" Bruce began, he paused, "Wait, no, I don't want to know."

Barry chuckled, "Ah my friend, you have learned. Don't worry, don't be intimidated by big Barry, I'm sure Brucie is of a reasonable size."

"We are not having this conversation." Bruce said threateningly, "And never call my penis 'Brucie' again. Or I swear to god I will castrate you," he allowed the threat to seep into his voice and heard Barry audibly gulp on the other end.

Bruce began to laugh at his friend's discomfort when he froze. The sunlight had brought to light what had appeared to be circled on the newspaper cutting. "Bruce?" Barry's voice came over the line, concerned.

"I'll call you later." Bruce said, bringing the paper up to the light. "Uh, okay then," Barry replied, "Is everything okay?"

"Just call me back later." Bruce hung up and inspected the paper more carefully. It seemed that the Joker hadn't just written on it. Circled in the blood were the first two numbers of the date 10/04- Bruce frowned, the letter p and m had been circled in the following summary sentence. His eyes travelled across the page until he realised that on the other side, a drop of blood had been spilled on the other article. 'Wayne Academy to hold fundraiser.' The article was a decade old, but the blood had been almost specifically spilt on the image of the school. Almost marking an x.

Bruce looked at his watch and back at the paper. "Alfred!" He called, within minutes the butler was there, concerned etched into his face. "Make sure the Batmobile is working, I need to sort my suit out." He said, standing and going over to the bookshelf.

"So, Master Wayne, you really are doing this?" He asked.

Bruce hesitated and turned to Alfred, "Yes, but please don't worry about me." He walked over and placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, "Promise me." 

"I promised your father and mother that I would care for you. And care for you I shall, even if that means helping you be a vigilante dressed as a bat." He replied, eyes twinkling with mischief yet full of affection.

It was over four hours later when Bruce had finished altering his bat suit. Making sure everything was up to date and everything fit, despite the fact that he hadn't worn the thing in years it remained still years ahead of modern technology and pristine as ever. Tracking devices, antidotes, weapons, zip lines, gases, all were clipped into his belt.

After dinner with Selina and the kids, he returned to the bat cave to make the final adjustments. Finally he glanced at the clock, '9:40' it read. There was still over 20 minutes to get to the school. He was sure of the clues that the Joker had left him 10:04pm at Wayne Academy.

He wanted to meet him, and Batman wasn't going to deny himself the pleasure. He was ready. He was prepared. Pulling on his mask he felt the suit around and took a deep breath, it had been so long. It was like he was reminding himself who he truly was. He was the Batman.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've been gone so long, but I've had exams and I'm in uni now and there's so much shit to do, you know?

10:02. It felt good to drive down the streets of Gotham, the street lights zipping past as the buzz of the city hummed around him. He was in his suit again. In his element. He was the Batman. Driving up to the fields of Wayne Academy he stopped just outside the gates. It was dark, the streetlamps were still unlit and he knew it was no coincidence.

 

Stepping out he padded silently across the fields until he reached the tall double gate that lead into the drive that lead to the large manor school. 10:04. "I'm here." He clenched his fists, his gravelly voice echoing through the emptiness. It was time for this to be over. The Joker would be back in Arkham Asylum and he would go home to his family. Like it was meant to be.

 

"I'm here." He repeated. Aware of how alone he was. Cackling. A laughter broke the silence. Bruce scowled, turned on his heel and slipped his foot back into a stance. He was ready. The cackling came again. He froze, there was something off about the laugh, something unfamiliar. He knew the joker's laugh too well, it haunted him every night.

 

"Ahahahahah!" It came again. There was feedback. Feedback midway the laugh. It was a recording. A figure. Running towards him, swiftly stepping to the side, Batman sprinted towards the figure. Climbing up onto the wall that surrounded the school, he walked across, shrouded by darkness. The figure was holding a device, from which the laughter had been playing, he was sure.

A clown mask covered his features. There were several others too, all with clown masks, but no Joker. He jumped down, landing into one clown's back, slamming his head onto the ground. He heard yells and screams of surprise. Spinning round, he ducked a swing and kicked in the back of another's leg, the leg giving a loud splintering sound as it snapped neatly in half. He landed another punch followed by an elbow to the collarbone and a sweep kick.

 

The final masked clown stood watching him, gun raised shakingly. "You going to shoot me?" Batman taunted, "Where's the Joker? The bastard didn't have the balls to turn up did he?" The masked clown glanced uncertainly up at the school building. Batman followed the flicker of his eyes. Of course, the Joker would want to watch. Grabbing the clown by the neck, he landed a push kick to the knee before letting him drop to the ground with a squeal of pain. Batman ran towards the school, smoothly climbing up the walls and towards the school.

 

A window was open, he knew the Joker had left it open for him. Slipping in, he let his feet hit the ground and walked into the classroom. A sharp intake of breath. Bruce froze, there was a kid there, a kid. He couldn't have been much older than Ivylia, and Bruce felt a sickening wave of worry pass over him as he saw the multitude of bombs that had been piled high in the centre of the room.

 

The teen was tall, dark, dishevelled hair covered his forehead and his eyes were wide with fear. His leg had been padlocked to the radiator against the wall. Yet there was a resolution in his face, with his upturned chin and grim look of determination. A victim, an innocent victim. This was the Joker's get away plan, he'd distract him with saving this kid and he'd leave.

"How long?" Bruce whispered.

The boy glanced at the door, "I don't know. He came while I was serving detention. There are at least a dozen of them."

"A dozen?" Bruce frowned, he'd seen only four. Bruce ran towards the boy and pulled out a blade from his belt.

"I've tried to-" the boy began, but Bruce raised a finger to his lips and let the blade glide through the metal. It fell away and a mixture of awe and fascination seemed to well in the boys eyes.

"Get out." Batman said as he turned to the bombs.

"No," the boy replied, voice filled with irritation, "I can see you're the batman and all, but I doubt you know anything about bomb disposal."

"What?" Bruce hissed, feeling irritation flood him, about to respond as to how a teenager would know anything about bomb disposal either. "You go and take care of the clown guys. I'll sort the bomb out."

Batman watched with something akin to bemusement as the teen turned to the bomb and began fiddling with the wires. Batman watched and frowned, the squeak of a footstep brought him out of his bewildered state.

"Stay here." He ordered the boy. The boy rolled his eyes as he opened a latch and revealed a multitude of wires, "No, I was planning to fly out the window." He dead panned. Batman said nothing. He couldn't waste anymore time. He ran into the corridor, only to see an foot disappear around the bend. He was coming.


End file.
